No, I would not like to have vomit on my shirt. But thanks for asking.
Just look at it. I know what you’re thinking.
It’s terrifying, right?
For as long as I can remember, I’ve been irrationally repulsed by babies. I’m not sure why. I mean, I don’t remember a baby ever doing anything to me. It’s not like I had this traumatic experience in first grade when a diaper-clad thug mugged my “Strawberry Shortcake” lunchbox from me, wielding a diaper pin as a weapon.
Yet, when someone brings their newborn into a gaggle of squealing women, I’m always the one who steps outside the circle, avoiding that inevitable question:
“Do you want to hold her?”
No. I do not want to hold your child. She can’t even hold up her own head. There is approximately a 94% chance that I am going to end up having some sort of bodily function on my clothing, and the worst part is that I don’t know from which orifice it could erupt. Also, I value my hearing and the sounds that come from that tiny mouth could give a banshee a run for its money.
I’ve been married for almost three years. I’m at that point in life when it’s expected that I’ll procreate at any moment. From the second a woman leaves her wedding reception, her job becomes Professional Incubator. You can’t even eat too much and comment that you feel a little sick, or else everyone begins assuming you’re With Child. About 6 weeks after my wedding, I walked into a family gathering and the first thing that was said to me was, “Why aren’t you pregnant yet?”
Why, hello. Nice to see you, too.
Don’t get the wrong idea about me. I’m not a mother hater. In fact, I am quite the opposite. Anyone who is willing to welcome one of these screaming, sleep-depriving, hungry beings into their home has all the respect in the world from me. The idea of babysitting overwhelms me so much that I’ve never done it. I haven’t even changed a diaper or fed a baby before.
But it’s so different when it’s your own! You’ll see!
Now you’re thinking, “Crap! Now what am I going to write as a comment?”
Maybe that’s true. Maybe it is different, but at this point, I don’t want to find out. You see, I value my sleep very much. When I don’t have to be any where, I tend to sleep about 10-12 hours a night. I get very angry when said sleep is interrupted. I also enjoy making spontaneous plans and going on random adventures with my friends. Basically, what I’m trying to say is that I’m far too selfish and I have no plans to change that fact.
Also, I’m not too keen on the idea of pregnancy.
I imagine it as being similar to the part in Alien when a creature bursts out of her stomach. It’s common knowledge, thanks to my last post, that I need to eat a sandwich. Something tells me that stick-figures were not built for child rearing. I think the big deciding factor was the moment I learned the definition of the word episiotomy. If you don’t know what it means, don’t look it up.
You can’t say I didn’t tell you so.
We need to start adding chlorine to the gene pool.
It’s a fact. Too many people have spawned without taking the gene pool into consideration. I would like to do the world a favor. After all, in the last four months, my husband has initiated a bouillon cube sucking contest and my friend and I took pictures of ourselves with pretzel stick walrus teeth.
It’s probably for the best.